


The Real Captain America

by TheColorBlue



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, I don't even know anything about the guy, I swear I didn't write a fic about Stan Lee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheColorBlue/pseuds/TheColorBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard Stanton writes for comic books.<br/>Or, a short fic about that guy who called Steve a moron. Originally posted on tumblr <a href="http://magickedteacup.tumblr.com/post/30856775155/hmm-this-reminds-me-that-i-was-totally-mentally">here</a> with accompanying photo, and sort of a sequel to <a href="http://magickedteacup.tumblr.com/post/29916504880/captain-america-saved-my-life-wherever-he-is">this</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Captain America

Leonard Stanton comes by every day to have lunch with his buddies, because the coffee's not bad and the sandwiches are way excellent, and Sophie has gotten to know him as a regular, and he's always saying that if she doesn't have a fella in her life by now that's waiting on her hand and foot, than all the men in this city are morons.

Leonard writes for comic books. It's kind of a funny thing, when you have real super heroes flying overhead on a reguliar basis--but the funny thing about _that_ is you never hear the real stories about what goes on with those guys, it's all very hush-hush and classified state secrets and the like. Even back in the forties--well, you heard a thing or two about Captain America, but even back when Leonard was a kid (and he definitely was a kid, barely breaking into his twenties when the war hit) but even then, he knew better than to take seriously what he and the fellas were putting together for the funny pages. Comic books were drivel, everyone knew that. _Everyone_. So there really was some guy dressed in red, white, and blue traipsing around Europe--that was silly enough, and then for the comic books you just sort of went with that, one brow raised in disbelief the whole time. They gave him some kid hero to appeal to the younger readers--Bucky, the boy sidekick. They went to town with this nonsense.

Somehow, seventy years later, it doesn't get any less silly. Iron Man--billionaire, playboy, genius, whatever it was, dressed up in red and gold plates, and shooting down bad guys. Cripes, what was the world even coming to.

Leonard keeps catching Sophie looking up to the sky inbetween serving coffee and setting out plates of crisply-toasted sandwiches, and he announces that she needs to get her head out of the clouds, what kind of whack-job flew around in a metal suit of armor anyway, for Pete's sakes. If she was looking for a fella in her life, she could stand to do a lot better than crazy Tony Stark.

Of course, here's the idiot that made jokes about radios the other day. He _could_ be better than a Tony Stark, but Leonard's not holding his breath.

He looks better than how he looked a few weeks ago, though. Not better dressed, necessarily, even Leonard knows old-fashioned when he sees it and he's wearing it--but, hmm, better. He's smiling, for one thing.

So Leonard turns half-way round in his seat, and says, "Life treating you well, son?"

The stupid kid frowns at him a little in confusion.

"The last time I saw you around here--I've got a good memory, mind you--you were watching for Iron Man and couldn't flirt worth a damn."

"Oh," the kid says. He's smiling politely though, now, and says, "You--ah, you called me a moron."

"That's right. And after you'd sat around here for long enough, I asked if you wanted to come over and play a game of chess because my chess partner had left and you were sitting around like a huge dope. The biggest dope. And you still dress like one."

"I'm trying to learn," the kid says, and his smile has sharpened into something nearly wry, and Leonard approves. The kid looks like he's learned a thing or two in the past few weeks. Probably nothing about flirting properly, though, Leonard would bet.

"You still haven't given her your number, have you?"

The kid looks quizzical now, and it's weirdly sincere.

"Why I ought to go over there and--no, nevermind it, come over here, I need to smack some sense into that thick skull of yours, and then you are going to help me finish this crossword so that I can go ahead and start another chess game with you."

"I'm not sure, about crosswords--"

"Shut up and get over here."

So Steve Rogers does.


End file.
